


Rivals

by Ekala



Series: Assassin's Creed Kink Meme Fills [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekala/pseuds/Ekala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Some would have said it was inevitable (if some knew about the incident). Two boys (men) who were rivals (not friendly) who spent much of their time in each other's room (arguing, of course) were bound to talk about sex at one point or another." De-anon from the (original?) Assassin's Creed Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivals

**Author's Note:**

> Presented unedited, for archival purposes only.

They would never admit to ever being friends. The other assassins knew all about their rivalry, of course, but through the simple fact that they had _not_ killed each other yet, that was amended to a _friendly_ rivalry. None of them would have admitted it either, of course.

Malik and Altaïr frequently talked ( _argued_ ) mostly in Altaïr's room, and mostly until very late hours of the night. It usually ended with them sleeping together (in the same room, that is, normally on opposite sides and still mad at each other) and very rarely a mad instructor, as few wished to anger Al Mualim through his favorite student.

Some would have said it was inevitable (if some knew about the incident). Two boys ( _men_ ) who were rivals (not friendly) who spent much of their time in each other's room (arguing, of course) were bound to talk about sex at one point or another.

"Three meals and four hours with your brother."

"What makes you think I'm going to start auctioning off time with Kadar?"

"So you think I'll win."

"No, I don't."

"Then what's the problem? Three meals, four hours with your brother. Deal?" 

They shook hands, both reaching for their belts soon after. Each scrutinized the other, looking ( _not_ touching) and comparing. Altaïr laughed.

"I win."

"No you don't!"

"Malik, mine is _definitely_ bigger. Don't even-"

"It is not."

Malik moved forward, to place them next to each other.

"Look, see, it's totally-"

"You're wrong, you're looking at it wrong-"

"I am not, I'm bigger!"

Altaïr growled, grabbing Malik's so he could compare them properly (some touching) and making him growl ( _not_ squeak).

"Look, they're-- Malik."

"S-shut up."

"What, you can't even handle _me_ touching it?"

"I-I've been busy, there was lots of-- ah!"

Altaïr laughed, Malik flushing ( _not_ blushing) and trying to pull away. Altaïr didn't let him go, tugging again at his half-hard erection (which was amusing and definitely _not_ hot).

"Altaïr, please..."

"Don't stop, I know. You just can't resist my skilled touch."

"You jerk men off often, Altaïr?"

"Only you, darling."

Malik gasped, bucking into Altaïr's hand suddenly.

"Ah, there's a nice spot."

"It wasn't-- nngh, ah!"

"Really now."

Malik growled, eyes flashing dangerously as he began retaliating ( _not_ reciprocating).

"You're not so immune to touch yourself."

"You started it."

"Not my-- ah, stop d-doing that!"

"Mm, no. Now, harder..."

Altaïr pressed himself into Malik's hand unashamedly (pleasure was pleasure, regardless of its source) and sped up his own.

"Altaïr, don't-- oh god, oh god..."

"Feels good, doesn't it? Let it go, Malik..."

Malik shuddered, groaning against Altaïr's shoulder and thrusting up into his hand. Altaïr smirked, tightening his hand and twisting his wrist. Malik moaned, shivering again before spilling over Altaïr's hand.

"There. Much better, hm?"

Malik growled, resuming his own hand's motion, making Altaïr buck into him.

"Shut up, Altaïr."

"Mm, gladly."

Altaïr groaned out his own release shortly, leaving Malik grimacing and him grinning.

"I win."

"...what."

"You lost, you came first. So I win. Three meals and four hours with Kadar, as we agreed."

"Altaïr. Those were not the terms."

"They were, and I win. Suck it up, loser."

"You selfish son of a bitch! I'm not giving you anything!"

"I'll take it anyways, and you know it."

"Damnit."

Altaïr laughed and Malik grumbled, a typical (completely normal) end to a normal (ordinary) argument between two (totally platonic) friends ( _rivals_ ).

Not that anyone would have admitted it.


End file.
